Oh, if only I’d been stronger and wiser . . .
She stopped the thought. If only . . . if only . . . What was the use in such thinking? It was too late to wish she’d done things differently. They were all stained with sin, and sacrifices merely covered it with another’s blood.
Oh, God of mercy, how I long to be free of my sins, to be an innocent child again, as white as snow.
Had Ahithophel thought through his vengeance? Could he hate her and David so much that he would destroy himself to get even? If he succeeded in setting Absalom on the throne, David would die. She would die. And the lives of Ahithophel’s four great-grandsons would be forfeit as well! Angry and desperate, she prayed with every step that her husband’s prayer would be answered and God would confuse her grandfather’s advice to Absalom. For without God’s favor, all would be lost. Ahithophel knew more about waging a successful war than any man in the kingdom, including Joab, who now marched with David, protecting him against the son with whom he had once schemed. Joab with his murderous pride. Joab with his hidden motives and deadly ambition! He’d pulled David in a dozen directions over the past three decades!
She looked up at Solomon. “You and your brothers must go and stand with your father.”
“We are standing with him.”
“No. Stay close to him. Protect him from Absalom and anyone else who might harm him. If the king falls, we all fall.” Tears blinded her. “Show David he has sons he can trust!”
As she walked alone among the throng leaving Jerusalem with David, she remembered conversations from years past around her father’s campfire at En-gedi. “Kill Saul,” Abishai had once said. “Strike the shepherd and the sheep will scatter,” Joab had advised. David had left the fire, refusing to listen, and her grandfather had discussed the matter with her father after the others followed. “Joab’s advice is shrewd. Saul’s death would put an end to this war and place David on the throne. But there would be no blessing for David if he kills the Lord’s anointed.”
No blessing.
The last thing her grandfather would want now was blessing on the house of David. And what better way to avenge his so-called honor than by setting son against father? Ahithophel would destroy a nation because of his pride. Were all men so evil-bent, so lacking in the ability to forgive? What right had man to judge what God redeemed? Her mother had warned her years ago that her grandfather would never let the matter go. She had hoped and prayed that he would take a different course. She wept now as she saw that Ahithophel had only pretended to forgive. She knew he would advise Absalom to pursue and kill David. And if successful, Absalom’s kingdom would be cursed as well, for what nation could prosper through a son’s shedding his own father’s blood? The house of David would fall.
Oh, Lord, Lord, that one night of sin could bring such sorrow!
No matter what happened, someone she loved was going to die.
Let it be Ahithophel, Lord. She wept at uttering such a prayer. Let it be my grandfather and not my husband and sons.
* * *
As David led his people to Bahurim, a man named Shimei from the family of Saul came out and shouted curses at him. The man kept pace, picked up stones, and hurled them, along with his bitter words, at David and his servants. “Get out of here, you murderer!” he screamed in rage. “You scoundrel! The Lord is paying you back for murdering Saul and his family. You stole his throne, and now the Lord has given it to your son Absalom. At last you will taste some of your own medicine, you murderer!”
Abishai drew his sword. “Why should this dead dog curse my lord the king? Let me go over and cut off his head!”
David cried out in anger and despair. “No! What am I going to do with you sons of Zeruiah! If the Lord has told him to curse me, who am I to stop him?” He wept and shouted, “My own son is trying to kill me. Shouldn’t this relative of Saul have even more reason to do so? Leave him alone and let him curse, for the Lord has told him to do it. And perhaps the Lord will see that I am being wronged and will bless me because of these curses.”
David continued along the road, wincing at every word Shimei laid upon his head. He felt stones strike him. He tasted the dust the Benjaminite kicked up.
When the people grew too weary to go farther, he gave orders to camp. He’d done all he could. He had sent another of his military advisers, Hushai, to pretend allegiance to Absalom. He instructed Hushai to counter whatever counsel Ahithophel gave. David had also sent Zadok the priest and his sons back into Jerusalem to act as messengers for Hushai. If there was any hope for escape, Hushai would see that David got word. Everything rested in God’s hands. The outcome would be according to God’s will.
I will die if my son pursues me now, Lord. I’m too tired to go on, and my people need rest. Help me. Oh, God, help me!
He took off his crown and held it in his hands. “Oh, Lord, hear me as I pray,” he whispered. “Don’t hide Yourself from my plea. Please answer my prayers. Trouble is all around me because of a grudge held against me for sins I committed long ago. My heart is anguished.” Closing his eyes, he gripped the crown tightly. “God, I’m terrified of death. Mine and all those I love. I’m shaking like a boy untried by battle. I wish I had wings like a dove so I could escape.” He swallowed. “Confuse Ahithophel’s tongue. All these years I thought he was my friend, and he’s been plotting against me.” He wept as he raked one hand back through his hair, dangling the crown in his other hand. “Ahithophel. My friend. My companion all these years. We had sweet fellowship together during those years in the wilderness.”
He ground his teeth, running his hand around the back of his neck. “All these years his words have been as smooth as butter, and war has been in his heart. He talked of peace with a drawn sword behind his back. He has fanned my son’s ambitions and set him against me.” He shook as rage heated his blood. “Send them into the pit of destruction, Lord! Let him go down alive into Sheol!”
David let out his breath slowly, striving for control of his emotions. He must be calm to give the people courage. He must think. He must act wisely. What a fool I’ve been, allowing myself to become soft and letting others run the kingdom! He turned the crown slowly in his hands and placed it back on his head, then rubbed his face, feeling the dust and grit of travel rubbing his skin. Oh, God, I never asked to be king. He would have been happier as a shepherd, singing psalms and looking at the stars in the heavens. He would have been happier as a poor man with only one wife.
Men plan, but God prevails.
With a sigh, David stood. “I will trust in You, oh, Lord. I will trust in You. Do with me as You will.”
* * *
Hushai reported to Zadok, and the priest sent his two sons to David. “Quick! Cross the Jordan tonight! Ahithophel is advising Absalom to pursue immediately, overtake you, and kill you. Hushai advises you not to spend the night in the plains of the wilderness, but to speedily cross over lest you and all the people with you be swallowed up!”
And there was more news, bitter and reminiscent of Nathan’s prophecy so many years before. “Acting on Ahithophel’s advice, Absalom has taken your ten concubines up onto the roof. He is sleeping with them before all Israel.”
David felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. He could imagine Ahithophel’s face ravaged by hatred, could imagine his thoughts: Remember all those years ago when you stood upon your roof and looked down upon my granddaughter? Remember how you took her and defiled her? How you brought shame upon my household? Now I will watch your son defile your women and bring shame upon your household before all Israel!
David roused the people and they traveled on to Mahanaim, where they were met by men from Rabbah and Ammon and offered beds, basins, and earthen vessels filled with wheat, barley, flour, parched grain and seeds, beans, lentils, honey and curds, sheep, and cheese from the herd. David’s people ate their fill and rested.
David counted his men. He set up captains over thousands and captains over hundreds. Dividing his army into three parts, he sen
t one-third of his fighting force with Joab, one-third with Abishai, and one-third with Ittai the Gittite. Then, with a heavy heart, he prepared to go out to war against his own son.
The people protested loudly against his going out with them. “You must not go. If we have to turn and run—and even if half of us die—it will make no difference to Absalom’s troops; they will be looking only for you. You are worth ten thousand of us, and it is better that you stay here in the city and send us help if we need it.”
David listened and once more stepped down. “If you think that’s the best plan, I’ll do it.” He gave orders to Joab, Abishai, and Ittai in front of the army. “For my sake, deal gently with young Absalom.” Then he remained standing at the gate as the men passed by him and went out to battle.
Once again, David remained behind while others fought for him. But this time he did it because it was what the people wanted and not what he wanted for himself.
* * *
The watchman from the tower called down. “A runner is coming!”
David paced. “If he is alone, he has news,” he muttered to himself. When the watchman shouted down again that another man was spotted coming swiftly after, David’s heart quickened in dread.
“The first man runs like Ahimaaz son of Zadok!” the watchman called again.
David clenched and unclenched his hands. “He is a good man and comes with good news.”
Ahimaaz called out before he reached the open gate. “All is well!” David’s heart leaped as the young man fell to his knees before him and bowed his face to the ground. “Blessed be the Lord your God,” he gasped, “who has handed over the rebels who dared to stand against you.”
“What about young Absalom? Is he all right?”
Ahimaaz raised his head in surprise. His eyes flickered and he bowed his head again. “When Joab told me to come, there was a lot of commotion. But I didn’t know what was happening.”
Why did Ahimaaz hide his face? David’s heart beat harder. He raised his head as the watchman cried out again. Another messenger raced toward them. “Wait here,” David ordered Ahimaaz.
The second messenger arrived, breathless and dusty. “I have good news for my lord the king. Today the Lord has rescued you from all those who rebelled against you.”
“What about young Absalom? Is he all right?” David demanded.
The Cushite’s eyes flashed. “May all of your enemies, both now and in the future, be as that young man is!”
David’s heart turned over, for he knew. “My son! My son is dead!” he cried out in anguish. “O my son Absalom! My son, my son Absalom! If only I could have died instead of you! O Absalom, my son, my son!”
Stumbling up the stairs into the chamber above the gate, David collapsed in grief.
* * *
David didn’t rouse himself when the door of his chamber opened. He didn’t raise his head until Joab’s voice flooded over him in a rage.
“We saved your life today and the lives of your sons, your daughters, and your wives and concubines!” Joab’s face was red, his hand clenched on the handle of his sword. “Yet you act like this, making us feel ashamed, as though we had done something wrong. You seem to love those who hate you and hate those who love you. You have made it clear today that we mean nothing to you. If Absalom had lived and all of us had died, you would be pleased!”
David hated him and saw in the man’s eyes that he had been behind Absalom’s death. And was glad of it. “He was my son, my heir!” Had he not ordered Joab before witnesses to treat his son gently? But Joab always did what he thought best, with no regard for others—or for what was right. He was a man who served his own ambitions.
And David saw death in the man’s hot eyes.
“Get up!” Joab shouted at him. “Now go out there and congratulate the troops, for I swear by the Lord that if you don’t, not a single one of them will remain here tonight. Then you will be worse off than you have ever been!”
Anger filled David. His body shook as he strove to calm himself, to control the impulse to attack the man. If he didn’t do what Joab said, what would it cost the kingdom? He looked into his commander’s eyes and knew that if he didn’t get up, Joab would be the one to strike, for he made no attempt to hide his anger or disgust.
David rose and crossed the room. He stood in front of Joab and stared into his eyes. “Did you kill him because he burned your field?” A muscle jerked in Joab’s cheek as he glared back, silent. David’s lip curled. Even if he hadn’t, Joab had still ignored the command of the king.
And David knew there was nothing he could do about it. Not now. Once again, it had been Joab who led the army to victory, while the king had waited within the city walls.
Joab stepped back and inclined his head. He had the eyes of a coiled snake.
David didn’t give him the chance to strike. Stifling his anger and grief, he went out and sat by the gate. One by one, his warriors came out to see him, and he thanked each of them properly for saving his kingdom.
And then David took his household back to Jerusalem.
* * *
Bathsheba sat in her chamber and waited. Would David blame her for the death of his son Absalom? Her grandfather had been behind the conspiracy to kill David and take the throne. Did he blame her now?
Days passed and she didn’t see him. Nor did the king summon any other woman.
Then, one day, the door opened, and without being announced he entered her room. She rose, her heart in her throat. He looked thinner, his face lined with suffering, streaks of gray at his temples. She took several steps toward him and then went down on her knees, bowing her head until her forehead touched the floor. “Oh, David, I’m so sorry.” She began to weep.
His hand rested gently on her head. “I don’t blame you for Ahithophel’s actions.”
She raised her head and looked into his eyes. Amazed, she saw that he still loved her. “Oh, David.” He went down beside her and she went into his arms. He held her so tightly, she hurt. She put her head against his chest and felt him kiss the back of her neck.
“I have news,” he whispered against her hair, his arms tightening even more. “When Absalom took Hushai’s advice to wait, Ahithophel went home and hanged himself.”
She trembled violently. God had heard and answered her prayers. “Ahithophel’s sin will rest upon his own head,” Solomon had said to her as they fled from Absalom. Her grandfather had judged and, by his own measure, had been judged.
David nuzzled her neck, kissing the sensitive curve and making her tremble. His breath was warm against her flesh. She heard the hard, swift pounding of his heart.
“I’ve decided Solomon will be heir to the throne.” She drew back sharply and looked up at him, afraid. He cupped her face. “I’ve decided. Do you want to know why? The others have nursed their sons on ambition and made them hungry for power.” She saw the grief in his eyes. “I swear to you, Bathsheba, it will be your son who wears the crown.”
“But who am I that you would—”
“Of all my wives and concubines, only you have wholeheartedly sought the Lord.”
Her eyes filled. “Where else could I go after what I’d done and all the pain that’s come from it?”
David kissed the tears that streaked her face. “Maybe it’s only those who’ve made such chaos of their lives who can understand the heights and depths of God’s mercy.” He kissed her lips. “I was fond of you because you were the daughter of my friend. I lusted after you and took you because of your beauty. I have loved you for the pleasure you’ve given me and the peace I feel in your company.” He drew back and took her hands.
They stood together. His gaze never left hers as he lifted her hands and kissed each palm. “But I love you most of all for the loving wife you’ve been to me and the mother you are to my sons. You have raised up four men who love the Lord and seek His face, sons I’m proud of, sons I . . .” His voice broke.
She put her arms around him and comforted him, knowing what h
e wanted to say but couldn’t.
She had raised up sons he could trust.
SIX
Just before David’s return to Jerusalem, another rebellion had threatened to tear the nation into factions as Sheba, a Benjaminite, called the men of Israel to war against David. His call to arms ignited the discord that had been festering between the ten tribes of Israel and David’s own tribe, Judah. Only the men of Judah clung to their king.
Now David instructed Amasa to mobilize his army, but Joab murdered him and took command of David’s army once again, leading the warriors out against Sheba. Trapping the rebel at Abel-beth-maacah, he laid siege to the city until a woman gathered the elders and convinced them to toss Sheba over the wall, saving the city from Joab.
Years later, the Philistines came out against Israel, and David led the nation into battle again. He was old and weary, and the men protested. “You are not going out into battle again! Why should we risk snuffing out the light of Israel!”
David relented, and his men went into battle without him. During the war that ensued, his mighty men struck down Goliath’s brothers, thus wiping out the last descendants of the titan.
Even while David wrote psalms of praise for the Lord, his strong tower and mighty fortress, he sinned against the Lord by taking a census of his fighting men. His pride and ambition led him to count the people so that he could glory in the size of his army, its power and defenses—rather than trusting in God’s ability to give them victory regardless of their number. Was it by man’s strength his kingdom stood?
When David recognized his sin, he begged for God’s forgiveness. The Lord gave him a choice: three years of famine, three months of fleeing from his enemies, or three days of plague. “Let us fall into the hands of the Lord,” David said, “for His mercy is great.” He chose the plague.